The Whim of Summer
by Big Sister Kitty
Summary: Character Study, Kabutocentric. Darkness and superstition are the spy's tools, but Kabuto can also hide in broad daylight.


_Dedication:_ To everyone at the _**Shrine of Healing**_,**to** **KyonxHaruhi** for his not-so-subtle prodding (_wink_), to my dutiful beta, **Niko Nightwind**, who was willing to put up with me and my technical and, er, geographical difficulties, and to every other Kabuto fan out there.:)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Naruto_ or any of its characters. This story is set in a more or less canonical environment, but I will lay claim to my directly and indirectly mentioned OC's thereof.

_**The Whim of Summer**_

Here Kabuto stood, shoulders straight, glasses clear of smudge, with the sun breaking through onto waveringly resolute eyes. Verdant clover clustered densely among meadow grass in a windswept field. Not far beyond that were thick forests, leaves frothing to the afternoon breeze. With a sigh born out of exasperation at attending to troublesome errands, he took a shortcut through the meadow, expecting to be in the forest patch with several minutes' walk. The sun glared constantly through his spectacles, but he didn't remove them. The white glaze on their surfaces hid his eyes, and with them, his emotions.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Though he would not admit it, he has dark, expressive eyes, and they need to be constantly hidden—lest they expose his motives. A ninja has to be careful, observant—even the minutest of overlooked details can prove fatal. He has sense enough not to worry that anyone from Konoha would catch him at this point, but he merely keeps it on—out of habit—skillfully dodging rays of light aimed at his corneas, but allowing them to streak through the hard lenses. The summer sun glosses over them, unrelenting, unrepentant. And through the meadow he saunters, unmindful, uncaring.

Summer is a time of light and life, but it was useless to him. It was fanciful, bright. He had no use for such things. A ninja thrives on secrecy, on practicality, on paranoia that borders on sensibility—for a spy, anyway. Of course a ninja must be properly careful, even on small missions like investigating the appearances of an intruder near one of Orochimaru-sama's smaller bases. But, in spite of that, he had held on to the belief that it was probably just a lost traveler.

Ah, that was it. He had been stationed here for some reason, and he couldn't help but feel frustrated at the perfectly mundane situation he found himself in, never mind the fact that he could always kill or kidnap that person for experimentation. There was nothing out of sequence in his inventory of bodies, and, being practical as he was, needlessly killing a random stranger could provide some complications. People might try to search for him—he had decided that the suspect in question was male, for there seemed to be no need for women or children to trek through dangerous and unknown territory. This place was isolated—which is why the ever-practical Sannin had chosen this as the location for one of his bases. It would be equally troublesome to drag a body back—the summer heat was too much for even him, who, being more of a lab rat than anything else, preferred indoors and inadvertently shunned the outside world.

_Summer!_ He scoffed, irritated and dispassionate. Woody barks marked with the heat of the sun soon came before him, weak branches bowing to the wind. He leapt onto one, flew from branch to branch as if made of wind himself.

Black eyes surveyed the area, catching every leaf, every stone, every fallen bramble, observant of traces of human activity. There were none. He moved farther into the thicket, wary of obstacles, careful to bypass them unnoticed.

Moving through the woods was annoying, the sifting of sunlight under the canopy flashed through his glasses, hiding his eyes, revealing them. All's well, he determined. He was good enough to hide in both light and dark, as proven by his performance as a spy in Konoha, so a combination of them was trivial.

The forest was devoid of human noise, he assumed that this stranger must be taking a light afternoon nap somewhere in the quiet. No shuffling of feet, no whistling, sighing, no clinking of sharp implements as one moves about, no sound of _zori_ tapping lightly on branches. Another survey, and footprints, broken branches, crumpled grass, scratches on barks and stones weren't visible. He stopped once he reached a small clearing, irately scanning it for clues, but finding none. Either this stranger was a very good ninja, or the scout who had reported the sighting was seeing things. He made a mental note to punish him later.

He leapt to the ground, careful not to touch anything. Body vaulting forward, arms flailing behind. He landed without much elegance, torso and up bent forward for balance, arms flung downward. There really was no need for such meticulous attention, but leaving as little evidence of his passing as possible had become a part of him, forming into such a normalcy as breathing. He stared down at the soft ground, reminding himself to clean up any tracks afterwards.

Sun-dappled ground, leaves speckled golden, rigid, peeling barks, yellowed moss…but no human in sight. He regarded the scenery with some disdain, abandoning any other thoughts of searching further. There was no need to at this point; he had gone far enough from the base as it was.

The air washed warmly over him, like a splash of hot water. Kabuto felt refreshed, but not dispelled of his contempt for the inconvenience. The wind seemed more active in these woods—strange, because wind travels more freely in open spaces. He turned away, intending to leap up to a tree, when his eye caught something not quite right.

It glinted clearly in the afternoon sunlight—he had looked there at the right time, when the wind shifted the leaves blocking the sun, allowing it to shine through before him. A bead of clear liquid, presumably water, glinted in the streak of light, slid gently down a leaf. This was strange, as there had been no rain for a week, and it was too hot out for any dew to remain on forest shrubs. Curious, he held out his finger, caught it as it fell, dipped it to his tongue.

Water.

He looked around for a puddle—maybe some forest animal had splashed into it, releasing the wayward droplet, but a quick check determined that there was none. That could only mean that there _was_ someone out here.

Sighing, he parted the leaves, hiked further into the thicket.

-----

_Ho ho, a _human.

The final word was given sarcastic emphasis. Kabuto listened, ears straining, for any other sound. That was it, he decided. He was going too far into this wretched forest, and it was making him hear things. The wispy voice was nothing more than the wind howling, airy, cool.

A hand to a stray lock of hair acknowledged the drifting wind. Now that he noticed it, the forest seemed darker, foggier, yet the wind was more rapid than before. Ridiculous, he thought. It was too early for sunset. Surely he hadn't been gone for _that_ long. A strange weather phenomenon—that was all.

He removed his glasses, wiped the mist off with his shirt, put them back on. The curtains of fog blended into the trees, taking on hues of green and brown, blending with watery gray. The wind curled the sheets of fog and mist, as if molding them. Clouds of them clustered, thinned, waved lightly. More collected, becoming layered, forming curves, reedy, slender. Vapor swirled around it, as if clothing it in a light, filmy raiment. Wind mixed with water, droplets shining like diamonds, floated over the opalescent haze. Kabuto held his breath.

Pearly ovals glowed as eyes, light vapor, hair. The smell of rain, gliding down slick leaves, cooled, palled. It was exquisite, clothed in marbled clouds of fog, windy hair long and flowing. Something bright was pulsing along the airy form, indistinct, but lively. A faery.

That voice again, an echo of a thousand winds. Shrill laughter. Gaiety as clear as those gleaming eyes. Misted locks stirred as if underwater, like lightly churning waves.

This isn't real, he reassured himself. Likely he had fallen into a _genjutsu_ trap. _Tch_, how careless of him. He positioned his fingers, letting ample _chakra_ flow through them as he attempted to dispel the illusion.

The figure merely laughed, clear, hollow, eerie. Lighted eyes twinkled.

"_Foolish_ human." She haughtily turned up her translucent chin. Kabuto calmly observed her, watching her feathery movements with interest. Her hair, her dress, everything about her was vibrant, alive, but she remained floating on one spot, among the trees and bushes, solitary.

"Kabuto—that was what that craven little man called you." She extended her pearlescent arm, gesturing at him. "Answer."

Kabuto smirked amusedly, pushed up the bridge of his glasses, black eyes showing a slight twinkle. "What is there to say?" he said in a jesting tone, as of one snapped out of initial boredom. "You never showed yourself to us before."

"A _haughty_ one as well!" the faery cried, laughing elatedly. "Humans need eyes. _We_ always know." She pointed her light finger at him, regarding him inquiringly. "You do not fear us."

"You are merely a figure of semi-condensed liquid, and even with your verbal skills, you aren't much cause for alarm." He wiped the fog off his glasses, showing the faery his eyes; steady, defiant.

"Amusing," the faery replied. "Kabuto, a living child among the dead." She laughed her airy laugh. "It is bad luck for the human if the faery knows his name."

Kabuto smiled lightly, indifferent.

"I can see it in your eyes. You like death."

He looked away, still smiling. "That depends on your definition of 'death'. If my memory serves me right, people avoid this place because they think it's haunted." He chuckled. "Once you enter, you will never return. Orochimaru-sama thought this legend very convenient."

"Hmph." The faery cocked her head to one side, vapor-hair rippling in cascades, light swirling in her. "That was intended to frighten. I haunt these woods, to protect my home. Humans are foolish enough to believe stories." She stared at him soberly, eyes glowing gently.

"So you're the one our scout saw," Kabuto asserted, all business.

The faery's eyes narrowed in a smile. "Yes."

Kabuto chuckled quietly, fingers splayed against his face and the convex of his lens. "Interesting." He laughed. "To think that I would find this mission dull."

The faery glided close; he could see his glasses moistening as she approached.

"Dull? In the vibrant wake of summer? Humans are terrified of the dark." She eyed him wonderingly. "I simply shroud them in mist, and they flee. And you," she came nearer. "Why are you so calm?"

"Summer," Kabuto drawled, feeling the old spark of irritation. "I find no pleasure in it."

"Then what do you find pleasurable? Kûmo thinks not what may surpass the quality of the sun and wood."

"Kûmo. Cloud." Kabuto stated. "Also a part of summer."

Kûmo curved her slender body sideways, flew some distance above him. "Indeed. Kûmo brings comfort and life."

"Not pleasure for me," Kabuto added. "But," he stared up at the airborne faery, gazed at the light inside of her. "There is something fascinating about watching life."

"Oh?" She alighted on the ground. "But I see hapless mortals dragged away into the dark, if not denied of their life." She gave him a hard look. "It is your doing?"

"Yes," he answered casually.

"_Why?_"

His glasses fogged, he turned away, tone of voice indiscernible as he spoke. "Like I said. To watch life—whether it be within my master's orders or not."

She stared back at him disgustedly, her pulsing form emitting an angry glow. "Is that it? The sight of pain brings pleasure to you?"

"Perhaps." It was a playful reply.

"I cannot understand mortals." She moved away, fluid in her retreat, faced him proudly. "I have been alive for centuries, watching life as it comes. Many summers it has been." She directed the full intensity of her ethereal gaze at him, white eyes meeting black.

"But now I cannot understand." She tilted her head, and Kabuto could smell it. Warmth, trees, life. She continued to stare at him.

"_You_ I cannot understand." It sounded mournful. Her pearly eyes shut softly, hair loosened, liquid strands flew off, vanished. Her whole body pulsed, dissolved, leaving only the scent of the forest in bright summertime. The aura of her body remained, as the fog and darkness cleared, they revealed themselves to be the shafts of sunlight streaming down from the canopy.

Kabuto watched this with patient fascination. He sighed once more, but more from vexation than loss. Here he was, standing in a forest clearing on a bright, sunny afternoon, when he should be out hunting down intruders. How foolish of him. He let the whimsy fade from his mind as he scanned for a strong tree branch to jump on to. A great one from a particularly large and ancient tree caught his eye. He smiled, leapt to it, all the while resolving that once he returned to the base, he would see to it that Orochimaru-sama would never get the report on this frivolous affair.

The sunlight hid his eyes once again, but that didn't matter. Even in the dark no one could still understand him.

The afternoon heat was pleasant now, drying his glasses of the troublesome woodland dew. The area was isolated, but alive, changing. Many summers had passed since man first roamed the earth, bringing complexities to simple pleasures. He had to smile at that. Kûmo wasn't too far off when she said she couldn't understand him. Because now he enjoyed his mission—leaping from branch to branch while the laughing white eyes of sunlight danced on the forest floor, frolicking with gentle vigor.

_**Owari.**_

Yes, it's a strange story, but it's a story nonetheless. And pairings are nonexistent.:P Heehee, have a nice day!♪


End file.
